Angel of Darkness Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  Just as the chilling wind that howled down from the mountain peaks became too much for him to bear, a gentle squawking sound caught in Xair's ears. Startled at first, he quickly began tromping through the knee-high snowdrifts down to the very edge of the river where sheets of ice flowed down the steady current. His purple eyes scanned the pure white snow until he spotted something black struggling in the snow below an ice-slicked holly bush. As he gingerly stepped closer, Xair tilted his head curiously as the squawking became more desperate. Then he noticed the black shiny wings flapping hopelessly in the snow. A bird? Not just any bird. It was a raven. His trepidation faded until he gathered the courage to kneel down in the snow and reach out to the troubled bird.

  Xair attempted to pick the bird up, but it snapped its beak at him and attempted to fly away. It only managed to fly a few inches up before it was stopped and was pulled back down to the ground. A string had become wrapped around the poor bird's leg. Upon further examination, Xair found some sticks and what looked to be dried berries that had become dusted with snow. He covered his mouth in surprise. Poaching was highly illegal on the mountain. His mother had just sent guards the previous month to arrest a group of poachers who were netting the protected ravens in the hills down to the south. It was strange to find a raven up here this time of year.

  The thought of poachers scared the young boy, but he knew he couldn't simply leave the poor bird to its fate. He looked around behind him to make sure that there was not anyone watching him before sliding his purple glass dagger from his belt and slicing through the string.

  The raven didn't fly away.

  "Go on." Xair waved his hand at the bird and whispered to it as he slid his dagger back in its sheath. "What's wrong with you, huh? You're free to leave now, so go before you freeze to death out here."

  The raven hopped a couple of inches forward until it stopped and nestled up between Xair's knees. A tangible warmth spread from the exhausted raven, traveling up the boy's legs and to his chest where his breath momentarily escaped him. When it returned to him, he sucked in the cold mountain air to feel every vein in his body spark to life with a refreshing energy he had never known before. If he didn't know better, Xair could have sworn he should fly off into the sky. But he shook his head to remove those fanciful thoughts from his mind. When he looked back down to the snow, the raven was laying there, motionless. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Xair poked the cold bird a few times until it was all too obvious that the raven was dead. He jumped as he watched the body of the raven slowly begin to disintegrate and turn to dust that was carried away on the winter winds. What just happened?

  "So you discovered your animal form, did you?" Footsteps approached from behind, back up from the top of the embankment. "What is the Little Heir doing so far away from the palace all alone?"

  Xair scrambled to his feet and hurriedly wiped the snow from his short pants. Once he looked up at the source of the deep voice, he gasped. "Who are you? A demon?" He held up his tiny fists. "I leash demons!"

  The elderly pale-skinned man with long white flowing robes and golden wings on his back chuckled warmly. "Do what you will, Little Heir, but it won't work. I am no demon."

  Xair wasn't about to let this strange winged creature invade his only place of respite and tranquility. Maybe he was the poacher who did that to the poor raven. The man didn't have the black skin of the pure Ka'taylins and he certainly didn't have the white runes of leashed demons. No purple eyes. The frame of his body was far too large and stocky to be one of Xair's people. Xair held out his palm towards the man and set his feet shoulder-width apart, just as the master druids had taught him in his demon leashing class at the academy. A tiny spark of purple and black energy leapt from his fingertips, but fizzled.

  The pale man grinned, only making the lines on his face more apparent.

  Out of breath and sweating from casting, Xair stumbled backwards and let his magic fade. "What are you?"

  "I am an angel. I am Archangel Carvael from Heaven, dear boy." Carvael tapped his fingers against his hairless chin as he observed the boy who was rubbing his chest. "You look sore."

  "Yeah . . . a bit. Wooden rods sting."

  "Why were you hit with a rod?" Carvael asked. "Aren't you the next sultan?"

  "Yes, but I have to be trained like every other Ka'taylin boy. I need to know how to set a table for banquets and how to be a polite and proper dinner guest."

  "Let me get this straight. You are the future ruler of this entire continent, but you let those peasants beat you with rods when they try to make you into something you don't want to be?"

  Xair kicked at a clump of snow with the toe of his boot. His white bangs fell out of the ponytail he had his hair tied back in. "I . . . uh . . ."

  "How can you ever hope to become a powerful leader if you let these people control you and hurt you all the time? You are better than this, better than all of them, Xair. Your father is an Elder Dragon, for Heaven's sake. You obeying these cretins is like a mountain bowing to an anthill. How many demons do you have under your control?"

  Xair held up his left hand where a white rune glistened in the sunlight. "This one and two others."

  "More. You have to get more, as many demons as you can. Only then will you truly be the ruler your people need. None of these people actually care about you or your future. No. They want to control you, keep you beaten down and submissive. But you know you're destined to be so much more than just some cultured slave to their customs and pointless rules. You are the one who should be making the rules, not them."

  "You want me to be sultan right now?" Xair asked, confused.

  "Not yet. You're not strong enough yet. You need more demons, Xair. Then once you have all the demons you can find, you will prove your abilities in a glorious battle against the false goddess, Sola. You will be the one to defeat her for the honor of the Arcanas, the true gods in the world. Don't you want to please the Arcanas?"

  Xair's thoughts instantly went to the electricity, water, fire, and earth that danced in the obsidian braziers in the temple. He placed his hand over his heart and recited the same thing he said fifty times every morning as he knelt naked in front of those braziers. "I live to serve the Arcanas!"

  "Then do as they command, Little Heir. I may be an angel, but I do not serve Sola's Heaven. With your help, Eternal Eclipse will deliver Heaven to its rightful owners. The Arcanas will rise again. And when they do, you will be their champion."

  Xair's eyes lit up with hope. "Really?"

  "Yes." Carvael spread his golden wings. "Now, go back to your palace and be a good boy. Search down any signs of demons and leash them all. Even if people tell you to stop, you will leash them anyway. I will visit you again once you are ready. That may be hundreds of years from now, but I will return for you. Until then, hone your skills. Oh, and one more thing. Never tell anyone about speaking to me. I don't want you to even think about my name. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good boy. I knew I could count on you. Farewell, Xair Korvin. Welcome to Eternal Eclipse."

  Chapter 4

  The pale golden mage-glow of mid-morning bathed the open field in its artificial sunlight from where it hovered high up in the atmosphere. Most of the snow had melted off of the dead grass, leaving muddy patches in its place, dotting the landscape as far as Jeremiah could see. With his grey long coat fluttering in the breeze, the seraph walked along the outer edge of the encampment where the pale yellow canvas tents were erected and some delinquent soldiers still slumbered, far past morning roll call. Normally, Jeremiah would have been one to storm into those tents and rouse the offending men, but not today. Today, there was far too much on his mind for him to be trifling with such things.

  Jeremiah did his best to ignore the snoring as he made his way past the tents and breathed deeply of the fresh Vilyron air. That is what they had begun to call this place, this gathering of soldiers and the very first constructions of their army. This northern land had once bee
n the very edge of the fallen capital city of Ilyan, Jaylen's home. It was no surprise when he had decided to move everyone up here so they could all work on resurrecting that defeated country. While new soldiers and refugees arrived every day along the makeshift dirt paths and what remained of the decrepit trade routes, it was still a while until the rest of the world would recognize that Vilyron could even exist again.

  As he came upon the training field, Jeremiah stopped and crossed his arms as he watched the soldiers in their rusted, hole-filled, and ill-fitting chainmail. Something had to be done about that. Not a single one of the nearly one hundred men currently sparring there had a full set of adequate armor. But they fought like they were wearing the finest armor money could buy. The ground had been trampled down to dust and thick mud from the grueling twelve-hour training session that Nimiel and Jeremiah's angels were putting the new recruits through. Those who could muster the energy and strength to still slash their makeshift weapons into the straw dummies by dawn had been given a plate of eggs and ham then sent away to recruit more soldiers. Those who faltered, those who gave up, were now being forced to push the remnants of wagons out of the nearby marsh and up to camp where they would be repaired and salvaged for anything of use. Even now, a new group of soldiers was beginning their twelve hour training course, their eyes focused on their form, their swing, and their evasion. But occasionally, a couple would glance to the tree line where they would see the wagons being pushed by exhausted comrades, and it would give them even more incentive to fight harder.

  As Jeremiah's heavy leather boots sank down in the thick mud near the training dummies, he ran his fingers through his spiky blond hair and waited to be noticed. With his tall figure, diamond earrings, and bright hazel eyes, it didn't take long to ever be noticed. He flashed a warm smile when one of his angels stopped the instruction of a teenage recruit and bowed.

  The angel patted the young soldier on his back. "Keep practicing your footing in this mud. Remember that even though you're using a one-handed sword, you can gain more power and accuracy by occasionally using two hands. When I get back, I want you to show me how you can do that. Back to work." He came over to Jeremiah with his hands on his hips, his pale yellow wings streaked with dirt and grime. "Commander Jeremiah, do you need something?"

  "Just watching the recruits. Tell me, where is Leader? As the Infantry Squad Captain, I would have expected him to be right in the middle of all of this."

  "Leader is . . ." The angel's feathers rustled in the breeze as he bit his lip and scratched at his copper-colored hair. "He's . . . uh . . ."

  "Dimtriel, you are under my command and my command alone. I asked you a question. I demand an answer."

  Dimtriel glanced around nervously then took Jeremiah's arm and led him a few feet away from the training yard. "I tried to stop them, I did. But you know how Jaylen is-"

  "King Jaylen to you. Everyone has to begin giving our leader the respect he is due. If we expect the military and the citizens to respect him, then we should be the ones to set the example, don't you think?"

  "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I was only-"

  Jeremiah placed a hand securely on the young angel's shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "Dimtriel, I may be your commander and a seraph, but there is no reason to be frightened of me. You were one of Heaven's Guardian Angels, Sola's well-honed weapons and strike force. Why do you still falter in my presence?"

  "Just a healthy respect for authority, Commander."

  Jeremiah snorted in laughter. "Flattery doesn't work on me. You're hiding something. Stop changing the subject. Where is Leader?"

  "Leader left the camp."

  "And went where?"

  "Please don't report me for insubordination. Please." Dimtriel nervously twisted the ends of his robe in his hands. "I've never been flogged and I don't think it would be a pleasant experience, even as an angel. I'm not trying to avoid your question or anything, but-"

  Jeremiah grabbed the collar of the angel's short brown robe and shook him as he yelled. "Tell me where Leader went, or I will see to it that you are flogged until your pretty yellow feathers litter the ground like snow."

  Dimtriel pulled away from his superior's rough grasp then fixed his robe. "Leader went with King Jaylen into the mountains."

  "When?"

  "Two days ago, right after we arrived from Krenoa Island. It was the middle of the night and I had been the one to guard our king's tent that night. Then I overheard him speaking with Leader about running off into the mountains to track down your hidden cell that you keep prisoners in."

  "Who else went with them?" Jeremiah asked.

  "No one. I stepped in and tried to talk them out of that foolish plan, but you know how King Jaylen is. Once he gets his mind set on something, there is no getting him out of it."

  "What of Zeriel, Jaylen's personal guard?"

  "I don't know, sir. He was not in the tent that night."

  Jeremiah's face hardened as all the relaxation and contentment morphed into anger. "Are you admitting that we have had three high ranking officials missing for two days, including the king himself, and you neglected to alert anyone?"

  Dimtriel hung his head. "Yes, sir."

  Jeremiah's hands tightened into fists as he called out to the other angels standing around. "Sacriel, Charael, take Dimtriel to the whipping post and see to it that he receives one hundred lashes for his poor judgment. Let this be a lesson to all of you. Just because you have wings and are my chosen angelic guard, you are bound by the same rules as these simple recruits. Is that clear?"

  The angels bowed as they responded in unison. "Yes, Commander."

  As Jeremiah turned away from them, he watched discretely out of the corner of his eye to see Dimtriel being led off to the whipping post at the middle of the camp. While he hated to sentence any of his angels to that humiliation and pain, it was a necessary evil. They had to learn that things were not as they are in Heaven. Many innocent lives and the future of Aldexa itself rested in their competent hands. He couldn't cut corner or give special allowances for his angels, as much as it pained him to do this to them. They would learn. They would be better for it. He was confident of it.

  Either way, Jeremiah had a much larger and impending problem that required his immediate attention. If Leader and Jaylen had been gone for two days, they could be nearing his secret prison in the mountainside where he kept certain . . . undesirables while he was busy with everything else on his plate. There was only one reason why Jaylen would leave in the cover of night to sneak away to that place. And it wasn't good. Nothing good could come of this. Then it hit him. Where was Zeriel? Jaylen and Zeriel were never apart unless they had to be. For Zeriel to not be in Jaylen's tent that night like they were every night, something dire must have happened.

  Jeremiah thought back to that night. He had been awake all night long in his tent, looking over the maps of the surrounding areas and sharing a drink with some of his angels. He didn't remember hearing any commotion or fighting. Everything had seemed to be perfectly fine. But something wasn't adding up. Now that he was more aware of the current events, Jeremiah noticed that something didn't feel quite right in the air. He sniffed a few times, but couldn't sense exactly what it was. Perhaps he was growing paranoid. He would have to investigate this further, but after he stopped Jaylen from making a horrible mistake that could compromise their entire operation.

  * * *

  "You there, demon! Wake up."

  Liaxa's orange eyes fluttered open in the darkness where only a single ball of mage-glow hovered near the corner by the iron bars of the cell. The headache behind her eyes had only grown through her restless night of little sleep and her back was sore from so many long days stuck lying on the stone bed. It was the only part of the cell that wasn't coated in the thick slimy moss that excreted the foul-smelling liquid. She hadn't eaten any of the food Jeremiah left her there with. The pack was still unopened at the foot of the stone bed. The smells wouldn't let her stomach settle e
nough to do so. As a demon, she could survive for longer than a human without food, but it still made her weak and exhausted to the point that no amount of attempting to sleep in the dank air would remedy.

  Liaxa groaned as she rolled over to look at the iron bars. Her breath escaped her. She sat up and gathered her matted purple hair over one shoulder. "What is this? What is going on?"

  The blond young man on the other side of the bars with the bright blue eyes and a long pink scar running down the right side of his face grabbed onto one of the bars with his right hand. "Where is the key to this cell?"

  "Jaylen?"

  "It's me. You look terrible."

  Liaxa slid off of the stone bed, her feet sinking down into the wet moss as she made her way to the bars. "Thank your seraph friend for this. What are you doing here?"

  Jaylen ran his fingers over the lock. "Where are the keys?"

  "Jeremiah has the only way to open this. Keys won't work. He placed some kind of binding spell on it. Why are you here?"

  A flash of deep longing and pain filled his deep blue eyes. "Because. Because I'm lonely."

  "Jaylen . . . where is Kato?"

  Jaylen shook his head as his hand subconsciously drifted up to hold onto the emerald pendant around his neck. "She's gone. Divinus killed her then I kill Divinus."

  "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

  Without another word, Jaylen reached into the cell and grabbed Liaxa's hair in his fist. He pulled her to him then pressed his lips against hers. They stayed there, enraptured in that kiss for a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity to them both. Liaxa closed her eyes and drank in his scent, that delicate leather and cinnamon that she could not forget, no matter how much time had gone by. His pink lips were just as soft and warm as she had remembered from so many months ago when they had shared their last kiss. That was such a simpler time. Had she been foolish enough to think that a paladin could fall in love with her? As they kissed more passionately, Liaxa started to doubt Jaylen's intentions after so short a time since his wife had died. Despite her longing, she pulled away and broke off the kiss.